Diluculo
by Arashi Strife
Summary: This fic takes place between Chain of Memories and KHII. I haven't decided on pairings, whether they occur or not or with who. If you review your input can affect that. The story is about to get interesting now.
1. Prelude

There are still so many unknown worlds.  
  
The present world.  
  
The world of darkness.  
  
The world of light.  
  
And,  
  
The world in-between.  
  
Where does the true paradise lie, I wonder?  
  
The black waves clashed on the lifeless white shore tirelessly in the dark night. In the skies above, the moon was masked by slate grey storm clouds and only the boldest of stars shone in the sky. Someone had been there only moments before, faded footprints left behind to be washed away by the tide. A corked bottle rolled to the side, a paper sealed within. It was left where he'd seen it.  
  
A red haze flooded the child's senses as the water raced about a half conscious form, and the unknown spun uncontrollably in the water. Red bubbles shimmered past in a crimson blur amongst the churning scarlet that the youth had awoken in. In this endeavor to gain direction, the child choked on the water, eyes slipping closed...  
  
Images raced by. There was a girl smiling at the drowning brunette, and a boy extending his hand. Both were yet unseen by the youth, and yet both were so real in memory they might as well have been there. A sudden impulse came into the mind as it was shutting down. An irrepressible thought that took over everything else. The thought took precedence over all other thought. With a last burst of energy, the brunette reached out to take the hand that couldn't be there.  
  
The waves discarded the child as if on command, leaving the barely alive to cough and choke and gasp and wonder. Those thoughts were so familiar, so foreign. And how had the brunette awoken in the ocean? None of it made any sense as glazed blue eyes roved the new setting.  
  
An empty shore, sand white as the moon itself. Black boulders knifed out of the salt white sand, only dark blurs to the eyes. The night was dark and cool, and the sky rumbled with thunder. Perhaps a storm was coming. And far off, bright lights caught the dazed seventeen-year-old's attention. Buzzing, flickering bright lights. As if picked up by a kind stranger, the brunette rose to stand, gazing still longer at the neon luminescence. Those lights weren't there three years ago, a voice in the youth's mind said matter-of –factly, and there weren't skyscrapers like those ones, either.  
  
Great monoliths of steel and glass stuck up from far off, reaching for the sky, and regardless of how, the youth knew they weren't there not too long ago. In fact, it had been a rather small town. The youth frowned, perturbed, and took a step forward with yellow and black shoes that sunk slightly in the wet sand, hesitating and wanting to continue. Confusion and clarity melded into one. It was all so bewildering , so clear. This place had a name, and the youth had been here before. It was Traverse Town.  
  
...there must be a you other than yourself existing somewhere...  
  
His footsteps were near to silent in the dark night, darker still as the moon hid behind a blanket of silver clouds, leaving only the stars to burn into the black velvet sky and illuminate the midnight. But he could easily see in this darkness, for it came as naturally to him as normal sight might come to others in the day. He was not a normal human being: he had been touched by something most others never had. He was of the Heartless, no matter how he might deny it, even to himself. In the end he knew exactly what he was. It didn't matter, though. His thoughts were on other things as he passed through the cold, aloof city that sprung up from a small world called Traverse Town.  
  
The rain always fell there, at least a little, and it had been so since he left. It had taken two years for him to finally tear out of his self inflicted hell, only to find that what he had sought had vanished without a trace. His reason for continuing to fight had departed from both memory and, it seemed, existence itself. So for a year he waited, and not sign nor sight of what was once lost ever came. Not lost any longer, but gone without a trace.  
  
A puddle splashed beneath his shoes as he wandered the streets alone, no longer looking for anything, because there was nothing to be found that he wanted, nothing he wanted that he could find. So he lived on for whatever invisible reasons he had created for himself, determined to find the last dear thing he could remember knowing. He searched for it, as he vowed to himself that he would till the end of time.  
  
He passed neon lights, all bright, some flickering and guttering like torchlight, toward the inn where he stayed. It had become his new home over the past year, and was perhaps the only refuge he would ever have. Perhaps it had been best that no one recognized him, and better yet that he knew no one there himself. Everything was easier when he had nothing to lose and anything to gain, and he fancied that life of his would continue for some while more before he finally gave up.  
  
He stopped short as Heartless rose around him. Their bodies had become sleeker, more humanoid, and yet steadily more feral over the years. They still had those yellow eyes, but their cobalt veins shuddered with an ethereal light in the darkness. He smiled. They weren't very clever, no matter how much they evolved. A veritable army had risen around him before the drew his weapon: the Oblivion keyblade.  
  
They came at him in droves, seeming all too eager to die. He felled several of them at once in a flurry of cold blue light, to any other a streak of lightning. Too many came too close and the boy leapt in the air, performing a maneuver resembling something out of the Matrix. Just as gracefully, he landed a distance away.  
  
From what the brunette could see, which was all brown and black and grey swirling matter but for the boy, the world was racing about too fast to cease. Gloved hands held to the sides of a throbbing head as the images came again. The boy, the girl, and a voice. The youth wanted it all to stop, fingers twined in spiky brown hair that had grown longer over the years. Those creatures, the boy, and his weapon—which had been joined soon after by another possessing all the same familiarity as the first—made thoughts race in the confused mind, memories rattled in their cages, clamoring for freedom. Unable to do anything else, the brunette watched the hooded stranger, swearing a glimpse of glowing yellow eyes under the hood.  
  
The cloaked boy seemed to know the streets like the hands of a lover, able to run up sheer inclines and weave in and out of alleys, and still the creatures pursued him, their death was all consuming. The acrobatics and racing finally ceased on a stage, all lit up for a performance that was cancelled because of the severity of the weather. Heartless rose from the pavement, an army of glowing amber eyes and pulsing cobalt veins. A virtual sea of shadows ready to kill him.  
  
A word came into the brunette's mind. It was a simple word, perhaps a name. This person was familiar, but at the same time so were the others. Whilst the warrior fought in the blinding sickly colored lights, he was also high above, watching it all like a gargoyle, perched high above in the rain. Two others the brunette had also seen: one racing through the shadows and another standing impossibly on a silver screen. All were different things, and at the same time very much the same. They all had the same appearance, the same aura and the same feel, yet they were different somehow. Each could not be the other: they were separate entities. Each moved with accordance to their own designs, regardless of what the others did, perhaps apathetic.  
  
Despite this, they all had a name. The name came into the brunette's mind, but the youth could not speak, was unable to say it and hear the sound of that old familiarity. Perhaps it was a will not to speak: the youth could say things in spite of a burning throat seared by salt water, but which one would respond? Would all of them hear, would all come and see the stranger that stood helpless in the rain? And what would they do about it? The brunette's head began to throb once again. All of these memories built up like crates, threatening to exceed the capacity of the youth's mind.  
  
By the time all these things had passed, the shadows had died, all slain. Now the ones who were so alike were fighting. A heart fragmented by memories that weren't there before could only look up, blinking against the silvery rain, still unable to see more than blurs and the forms of the hooded ones. They were the only thing the youth could see clearly, it was the only thing that seemed to be of any importance, and perhaps this was why it did not matter when someone came up from behind the half drowned youth.  
  
Vision was poor, but the youth's hearing was far from this impairment. When the footsteps had grown close, the brunette about-faced, facing whatever it was without a weapon and without and notion of how to use one anyway. The shock made the brunette cry out, arms shielding clouded blue eyes.  
  
It was one of the four who were out there, but right in front of the youth, the visual clarity was painful. Being able to see in such close proximity at this point was a mental shock. The youth hadn't made a single sound, but the hooded boy had come anyway. It made the youth's head hurt even more. Even with closed eyes, the mind was burning, and the brown haired youth couldn't understand it. Was there something wrong with this person? Everything nearby had become so cold and dark that it burned. The close proximity made the youth's heart hurt, for the happy familiarity or the stinging pain of other memories the youth was unsure. It was pain, and the youth could barely stand it nor stand on weak legs.  
  
Gloved hands lowered, still guarding, still wary of this new presence. The youth had to make sense of this sight, or weak vision would instead be a blindness. Being blind was not a thing that would help, especially being alone in this horribly familiar place. Impairment like that would only be fatal. The brunette tried to speak, backing away from the source of the pain. But nothing came. The words died even before reaching the brunette's lips. Something else came instead, just a tear that seared as much as the pain in the confused youth's heart. It was one silvery tear, no different from the rain that kept the youth soaked, and the shorter of the two wiped it away, surprised it had been there in the first place. How odd that the brunette's own hand was a blur but the boy was clearly visible.  
  
The other stood there in silence for a very long time.  
  
The youth wanted to run from this. Whatever it was, and the youth was still unclear on that, it made things burn and hurt. Before there had been four, but there was only one now. This single one stood, perhaps unseeing, unable to find the person before him. It was odd, as if this person could not see the brunette, but was aware of that presence. It just as easily could have been that this hooded stranger was looking in some other direction, at something else. There was only one problem with that. This hooded one was blindfolded. 


	2. One

But since we exist here, they cannot be termed as existent.  
  
Therefore I shall call them...  
  
"The non-existent ones."  
  
The youth awoke in a small place, on a bed that by standards was not soft nor comfortable, but was so nonetheless to a weary body. The brunette was pleased that vision had fully recovered, and was able to see every detail in the room, including the torn wallpaper that peeled off the corners of the walls. A fireplace blazed quietly on one side of the room, and there was a beaten wood table with two old chairs. Boxes were stacked here and there: crates that hadn't opened for years. There was a dilapidated dresser along the wall nearest the bed, and a window of fair size. Despite how it looked, the room was very warm and the relative shabbiness wasn't even an observation.  
  
The question of how the youth came to be in this place was the only thing on the brunette's mind. The youth could not recall fainting or falling, and did not think the hooded boy had attacked. It didn't seem the person could be capable of that, although the youth wondered where this faith in the stranger had originated. He had been strikingly familiar, so perhaps he wasn't truly a stranger. Someone the youth could not remember, but not a truly strange person. They must have met before.  
  
The weathered door opened, and the hooded one came in, soaked by the rain and carrying a sack. He let the door swing shut behind him, seeming indifferent to the fact that it was still partially open, and sat in a creaking chair. The youth only watched, not yet having sat up nor determined whether to trust this person or not. He threw his hood off, revealing damp cloudy silver hair. Over his eyes was the blindfold, so at least he was the same one. After this, he dug through the sack and produced a small glass container. The brunette watched silently, observing.  
  
He stood up holding the small bottle and approached the bed. The youth hoped that the ability to feign sleep was an inherent talent. Still quiet, noticeably careful not to make sound, he sat on the bed beside the youth, seeming to gaze through the black fabric that covered his eyes. The blindfolded one pulled the cork out of the bottle and sat there a moment, waiting. The brunette resisted the urge to flinch.  
  
"Drink this. I know you're awake."  
  
A few minutes passed by, and it appeared that the youth's ability to act wasn't very good. The brunette's blue eyes opened, gazing at the boy with a small level of wonder. It was impossible for him to see with that covering over his eyes, and the youth had remained still and silent, although the silence seemed mandatory. The only problem with obeying him was the fact that the youth's body was so stiff that movement wasn't an option. Trying not to seem weak, the youth attempted to sit up. It was a daunting task, and the youth would not have been surprised if the boy had laughed, for it took several clumsy attempts and the youth could scarcely breathe afterwards. Even so, the youth had sat up, and that was all that mattered to the brunette. For some reason, the blue eyed youth did not want to seem weak in front of this person.  
  
It had been tiring enough trying to sit up, but there was still the matter of drinking the green stuff the boy was holding. At this point, it didn't matter what it was. The youth did not care if it was poison or some kind of drug. The only thing that mattered was proving that the youth could do it.  
  
A trembling hand reached out and took the bottle, which was lighter than the youth expected it would feel in this state. Taking it and moving it proved to be the easy part, because the brunette couldn't manage to drink it. It wasn't a question of will, because all of that was directed at accomplishing what the blindfolded boy had asked the youth to do. The youth's throat burned, and instead of drinking it, the youth ended up with it running from the corners of a numb mouth. It took a moment of this before the youth stopped, limply wiped the cool liquid off, and held the bottle for a moment, hand resting against a heaving chest. The youth's heart was hammering like a hummingbird's. All the exertion was too much, but the brunette didn't want to fail in front of this person. Never, even if the youth didn't fully understand the relationship with that person.  
  
It would have to be a few moments before the youth could try again. The effort was draining, but it had to be done. This was proving oneself to be adequate, unknowing of the purpose behind the attempt to do so. Another problem was spilling all of the green fluid, which was a total failure. The youth had to try again soon. The blindfolded boy was still waiting.  
  
"...Can't you do it?" There was no derision, only concern.  
  
The youth would have liked very much to be able to speak, to scream in frustration with this body that was so tired and weak. Words did not come, nor did sound, just pain. This wasn't working, and the youth shook a tired head. It couldn't happen just yet: the youth had to have just a little time to breathe. After that, the brunette would try again.  
  
Before that could happen, though, the boy took the bottle from a barely resisting hand. The youth instantly felt failure, turning to stare out the window. The youth did not pay notice when the blindfolded boy downed the bottle, but turned to face the sudden motion, finding this one of the few motor skills that didn't hurt. The boy's hands held the youth's face, and then the boy's mouth was on that of the brunette. Stunned, the youth flinched, feeling somewhere that this was very wrong. The boy was, in fact, forcing the liquid down the youth's throat. This might have been seen as kindness if not for the fact that the youth was left confused by it.  
  
The boy parted from the youth, who coughed, and stared at the one with silver hair. There was no explanation from the other, who wiped some stray fluid from the youth's face, and did no more. If the youth had been able to speak, there certainly would have been a great many things to say. In a way, it might have been good that the brunette couldn't speak. There would have been too many things to think of saying, and that would have made things hurt more. The brunette's throat was feeling considerably better, which was welcome as far as the blue eyed one was concerned. That boy was very strange, though.  
  
"You should get some rest. That potion should help." The boy stated, standing up and going back to his original place in the battered chair. It seemed that the youth was not going to go back to sleep any time soon. They stared at one another from across the room—even when the brunette could not see the boy's eyes, he was staring— for a long time before the blindfolded boy spoke again. "You look so much like him, but you can't be, can you?"  
  
The brunette half-shrugged. The truth was that the youth didn't know who or what either of them was. It was impossible to answer, even if the youth had been able to speak. Only one thing let the youth identify this boy. He was familiar: his voice, his face, and his mannerisms. They were all things the youth felt safe, knowing those things were there. Another part of the youth was disconcerted by this ease, finding that there should be concern. How could one be worried when one knew another by name, though?  
  
"I guess you really can't talk." The boy sighed.  
  
The youth nodded, trying not to look stupid doing it, but feeling it was so anyway. That was right, the youth could not speak or answer anything, even if it was something the youth could answer. Frowning in thought, the youth tried to figure out how to communicate. The boy seemed willing to talk. Somewhere inside, the youth knew the boy's name, so that wasn't a problem. The brunette's own name, however, was harder to recall. It had to be something simple. That was why it was so frustrating.  
  
Deciding that names could wait, the youth motioned with the air to show the boy's blindfold, shrugged, and then watched, hoping he would get the idea. It was the only way the youth could ask 'what's with the blindfold'? He seemed to be able to see through it, and the youth didn't see why he would wear it in the first place. If the youth knew how to sign, it may have been useful.  
  
"...My eyes bother most people." He got it. The youth felt a small level of success. This form of communication wasn't ideal, but it was working. Effectiveness would have to do for now.  
  
The youth nodded to show understanding, then realized that this may also be seen as agreeing that there was something wrong with the boy's eyes. There wasn't much to do about it, but the brunette motioned to both blue eyes and nodded 'no'. Hopefully that would show that there was no intention to insult the boy, the youth thought. Now that some energy was returning, the youth was finding it a bit easier to move a bit.  
  
"...Are you trying to make me feel better?" The boy seemed puzzled. He almost wanted to laugh at the youth's antics.  
  
The youth nodded and smiled in a good natured, childlike manner.  
  
"Thanks." The boy sat quietly for a while. The youth wondered if he knew the next question already. It was a predictable pattern. It didn't matter what the answer was. After all, it was only inquisitiveness. "...You want to see my eyes. Don't you?"  
  
The youth wanted to show that this was a yes if it was okay with him, but otherwise it wasn't a big deal. However, the brunette could only nod, serious and emotionally neutral. Being human, the blue eyed youth wanted to know out of curiosity just what made other people drive someone to hide his own eyes. Blind people often covered their eyes because they were blank, staring into nothing. This boy could see, though, and the youth could not conceive of what could be so bizarre about his eyes.  
  
"Alright." The boy felt for the first time in a long time that he needed to speak. He was the only one that could, and the silence between them was strange. He reached up and untied the knot at the back of his head and slowly pulled the fabric away, keeping his eyes fixed on the youth. The reaction he got from this person mattered more than anything else.  
  
The youth stared at his glowing amber eyes, like those of the shadows that devoured people's hearts. It was an open gaze, unsure what to feel or think just yet. It was terrible. Those eyes were supposed to be different, the youth thought. They had changed in the darkness after all this time. Somehow the youth felt guilty, and even then another part of the youth said they were the same as before: behind the color, they were still his eyes. The eyes of a friend, which were beautiful no matter how they might appear to others. The one that might have been his best friend from so long ago only stared at him. The boy looked down. His eyes were the proof of his betrayal, back when he didn't have the same faith that his friend had invested in him. It was too late to fix that now, he saw that. A single tear burned his face. He had ruined everything, single-handedly destroyed it all. There was no one to blame but himself.  
  
Clumsily, the youth stood and stumbled over to the dresser, slamming into it. With the slam, the boy had looked up, puzzled, at the youth, who was standing against it to remain steady. This person was a friend, the youth knew for certain, and that friend needed reassurance. It wasn't something the brunette was sure was possible, but it was worth a shot. This person was a friend, and this person was sad. No matter who it was supposed to be, the youth wanted to help.  
  
It was hard to keep from falling onto the floor, and the youth had to lean on boxes along the way. The boy still did not understand what the youth was trying to get to, but stood to help, having replaced the blindfold. Tentatively moving along the wall, the youth got close enough and reached out for the boy, collapsing against him and breathing heavily in exhaustion. The boy held the trembling youth up, and it was apparent that the brunette could not stand alone: moving across the small room had worn the blue eyed youth out.  
  
"If you'd needed something, I could have gotten it for you. You're still injured." He looked down at the youth, wondering if it was possible. Had he really found who he'd been looking for all this time? Had be been forgiven? He didn't think there was forgiveness for people like him.  
  
The youth silently said 'no' again, brown spikes brushing against the boy's chest. Pushing away and limply standing, the youth waited until the room stopped spinning to look up at the boy, smiling tiredly. There was a chair nearby, and the youth sat down before falling, wondering how to communicate. It was hard to say what needed to be said, and as the boy pulled up a chair and sat near the brunette, the youth tried to think of a way. It was terrible, having him so sad.  
  
At once, it occurred to the youth that it was remarkably simple.  
  
The youth got back up, hoping the small amount of rest meant that standing briefly wouldn't lead to crumpling on the floor. Standing before the boy, the youth wanted so badly to speak, but had to show words. The brunette concentrated on staying up and reached out to touch the boy's face, following the blindfold to its new, tighter knot. Gloved hands fiddled with the tie until it loosed, all the while the boy stared at the smaller person, who wavered in an attempt to stand still. At last the youth took the black material away and promptly fell against the boy, whose arms instinctively held the slight weight, propping the youth up.  
  
The youth's one hand rested on his shoulder, another on the youth's head, possibly dizzy again from all the movement when there should have been rest. A young face smiled down at him: a weary, kind smile. Blue eyes met amber ones without flinching, without retreating. There was only warmth there. It was because this one person in all the worlds might understand him, and that he wanted to be forgiven so badly.  
  
Even without sound, he knew what the youth meant. 


	3. Two

This mystery cannot be easily resolved.  
  
The relationship between the heart and the flesh is a complex one.  
  
The youth had fallen asleep soon after, having returned to the bed to rest. He watched as the brunette slept peacefully, still holding the cloth in a gloved hand. It was a strange thing: he felt like this person had to be the one he had sought for what seemed like an eternity, but at the same time he felt it couldn't be.  
  
He had been watching the youth sleep for several hours. If there was anything he had come away with after his experiences, it was patience. If he'd had more of that to start with, he would have been better off. With this acquired forbearance, he remained there and watched the youth quietly. He had gotten up once, however, to replace the blanket the youth had somehow cast to the floor.  
  
They seemed so similar, but he could not be sure that this was indeed his lost friend. In a way, he hoped it was. This person was clumsy and sweet, the things he remembered and loved. At the same time, this person could not tell him if they had met. It looked like there was recognition, but he could not be sure. The brunette looked the same as well, except perhaps the long hair. He also did not know the gender of this person. The brunette's voice would have to come back with time, he knew, and it was just a matter of waiting until he could ask questions and get clear answers. Although, he told himself, the gestures were quite adorable.  
  
He chided himself in his mind, reminding himself that he was growing to have affinity for someone he might not even know. It surprised the silver haired boy, because he had gotten so used to placing barriers between himself and the people he met. That was the only way he could assure himself that he would not lose anyone else and he would not have to miss them. Already he hoped he would not lose this blue eyed stranger, even if they truly were strangers.  
  
A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie, and he straightened, ready to go open the door. It was either the innkeeper, his wife, or his daughter. They came every so often with things he needed, things such as food or new sheets. If it was time to change sheets, though, that would have to be delayed. He hated doing it himself: it always seemed the sheets were crooked or wrinkled when he laid them out. Then, there was the matter of how it might look to someone who did not understand the situation. That and the fact that the brunette was a mute and couldn't help explain anything combined for a potentially uncomfortable situation.  
  
"Sir, I have your breakfast if you're awake."  
  
It was the innkeeper's daughter. She was fourteen and she looked like a black haired version of Kairi when last he saw her. In the past year, he never had learned to recall her name, nor had he spoken a single word to her. By now she knew very well he was up at this hour every day. She was sweet, but it got annoying when she fussed over him. He supposed it was because she was lonely and he was the closest to her age of anyone she saw on a daily basis. He got up and opened the door.  
  
"Good morning." She beamed. The girl used to be even more chipper about it, but had toned down to gain his approval. He didn't understand why, but she cared what he thought. Again, he supposed it was because she had no real friends to visit.  
  
She held up a basket and listed off the things her mother had prepared that day, although it was the same every day. It was always fruit he had grown to recognize, accompanied by muffins and meat in the form of half-burnt sausages. They both knew what was in the basket, as with every meal. It gave her something to say to him.  
  
Behind him, the brunette stretched and made a small noise before rubbing tired eyes, oblivious to whatever was going on. He suppressed a smile and a grimace at the same time, not interested in breaking the silence he had maintained with this girl for over a year. It was obvious that she noticed the bedraggled youth and had come up with her own ideas on what and why. She looked past him and smiled.  
  
"Your friend it so pretty." Despite the fact that this person could easily be a boy, the silver haired boy thought wryly. "You should let me take her shopping. Her clothes are pretty messy. Or is that because of you, mister blindfold?" She teased just like Kairi, and there was no real suspicion of anything immoral. It was her way of joking, and not knowing his name she called him by his most individual feature: and he wasn't even wearing it. He wondered if she had taken note of that.  
  
He waited, knowing it was coming. He could almost do a count down.  
  
"Hey, you're not even wearing your blindfold today." She had obviously noticed only because the youth was trying to find a place to put it and fell on the floor with a thump. He turned to see the youth smile sheepishly and stand on wobbly legs again. "Your eyes are strange. Are you from another world?"  
  
He looked back to her. Since the brunette was pretty much mute, he was going to have to answer. While he agreed that the blue eyed youth needed new clothes, he wanted to take the brunette himself. If this was a boy he was dealing with, a dress was the last thing they needed. "We met last night. Unable to talk much less stand." It was all he had to say, and he took the basket to set it on the table, looking at the brunette just before being bumped into. The youth made frenzied attempts at silent apologies and sat in a chair. The blindfold had become a hair tie, and the brunette had plenty need of one.  
  
The innkeeper's daughter came right in and knelt in front of the brunette. "I'm sorry you can't talk, but I'll make sure that mister blindfold is nice to you. Let's be friends, okay?"  
  
Being the amazingly cute thing he or she was, the brunette smiled and nodded, but made a face at the comment on the silver haired boy's behavior. He was actually a nice person. A little quiet and strange, but a nice guy. The brunette also wanted to thank the girl for the pretty comment, although also troubled by it. The brunette wasn't sure if 'she' was a she or a he. The youth hadn't really bothered checking, either, but it didn't much matter at this time. Those things were also followed with the shock of seeing this girl's appearance as familiar, although looking like someone else.  
  
"Okay. I'll see you later hopefully." The Kairi lookalike smiled and left, closing the door behind her as she did so.  
  
The silver haired boy slumped into a chair beside the blue eyed youth. "That was a bit bothersome, wouldn't you say? She's usually in my room to change bedding or something, but I've never even spoken to her." He looked over to the brunette, who was debating on whether or not to go for some food. "You're welcome to eat whatever you want, but I'm warning you, the red fruits have lots of seeds."  
  
Smiling gratefully, the youth took a muffin and carefully began to eat it in tiny bites.  
  
While watching the youth, he began to wonder more and more, so he had to ask. "So, are you a boy or a girl? I thought you were a boy, but I might be wrong..." He trailed off, having no way to further explain himself.  
  
The youth stopped short and set down the muffin. Brushing the crumbs off on an already messy shirt, the brunette tugged the collar out and looked into the shirt. The boy wanted to laugh again, but didn't. Looking confused, the youth watched as if there was a show going on in there and then looked up. Shrugging, the youth tried to find a way to answer, eventually giving up and pointing at him.  
  
"...Boy?" He asked. The youth nodded, seemingly fairly sure of the answer. "Well, that makes things a bit simpler. I just wish I knew your name."  
  
The youth pointed at him, trying to find some way to say it.  
  
"Me?" He asked, for the first time not following.  
  
The brunette nodded and took a knife from the basket, scraping the table with it. A few grunts of effort were issued as the youth cut at the oak table, trying to write something perhaps. He stood and leaned over the youth, watching as the smaller boy worked on the letters, barely legible as they were, and in tough wood at that.  
  
When at last the youth finished, the silver haired boy stared in amazement.  
  
It was his name written on the tabletop. There was no question now who this must be, he thought with a warmth he could not remember having. On the surface of the wood, in messy letters, the boy had carved the four letter name that was associated immediately with the blindfold boy. That name was Riku. 


	4. Three

Right....Disclaimer. I don't own Kingdom Hearts or Final Fantsay, but one day I might.  
  
I'm the Arashi. Sorry I didn't put any author notes on this fic so far. I was too preoccupied with putting it online for my pal, Rikku. Just so you know I'm not posting anything else unless people review it, otherwise I think nobody likes it. Yeah. I've only begaun so hopefully people want to see where this is going.  
  
Ah... It seems you are special too  
You look like him  
Which means, you are not complete.  
  
Incomplete one...  
  
That power...  
  
Allow me to test your power.  
  
I am...  
A mere shell.  
  
The younger boy was fast enveloped in a frail embrace, which was returned with some confusion. "I've looked for you so long. I thought I'd never find you."  
  
Smiling in silence, the blue eyed boy felt this was familiar somehow, although unable to recall just why it was so. He just seemed right, and this seemed right. Although the memories still remained bound and caged, they resonated at this, and the brunette felt comforted by something that at last made sense. This boy was Riku, and Riku was a good friend. Yes, that was right. It was only a fragment of a shattered memory, but the boy felt it was one of the most important. The older boy was shuddering, and the blue eyed boy held him closer. Things were still unclear, but it was starting to make sense. It was very important to him as well to have been reunited, although he could not fully recall what had happened. All that mattered now was the truth that he had realized. He'd found Riku, and that was enough for now.  
  
"I've missed you..." Riku repeated for what seemed like the fiftieth time before he straightened and made sure his face was dry. There were no tears, and they both knew that. Neither of them seemed to be able to cry, no matter how happy that moment seemed to be. He got serious rather quickly, as if embarrassed by his own feelings. It seemed he wished to deny their existence. "Where the hell have you been all this time? I guess it's just convenient that you can't speak. You never were good at explaining."  
  
The brunette sighed and picked up the knife again.  
  
"Don't bother. I doubt you remember." Riku said, his hand on the other boy's only for as long as it took to convey the message. After that, he shirked away as if the mere contact burned him. He had seemed so happy, but now he seemed wary. The younger boy did not understand why Riku was behaving so, and he wondered if it might have been better that he never bothered to let the boy know he knew his name. It would have been less uncomfortable.  
  
He picked up him muffin, daring Riku to just be that way. If the silver haired boy was going to be a brat about it, then he'd be just as strange with him. It wasn't fair for the other boy to act so suddenly cold like that, not after getting all excited about seeing him. Riku was confusing him, and he already had barely any clue about what had happened or what was going on.  
  
"Hey, don't act like that." It was half order and half request. That was new, some voice in the brunette's mind laughed. He still felt badly that the older boy seemed concerned by it. "I just don't think you could forgive me just like that. Not after all that. I know you can't Sora."  
  
After all what? The boy honestly didn't know. All the memories were still caged. The name Riku had spoken was his, but it didn't seem absolute. It could easily have been his name, perhaps doubtlessly in Riku's mind, but his own questioned if that was it. 'Sora' was right, but he felt troubled. He had accepted Riku easily, but the older boy acted as if he should not. Was he supposed to be different? Maybe he was all wrong because he could remember so few things. He did not know where he had been nor why he had forgotten. He knew nothing before finding himself drowning in the sea outside Traverse city.  
  
You look like him... Which means, you are not complete.  
  
Incomplete one...  
  
He looked around for the source of the voice, and it appeared that Riku had not heard it. Who had spoken, and who was incomplete? Finishing his muffin, he stared at the window, watching the rain slide down the glass. Sora frowned. He had to be incomplete, for he had no memories but for Riku's name. There were many other things he should have known, but did not recall. What am I then, he wondered as the liquid metal of silver rain hit the glass and streamed down it in unsteady rivulets. Sora looked like someone else, the voice had said. It was all so confusing.  
  
"Sora? Are you all right?" Riku asked, trying to mask his worry.  
  
The brunette nodded. He was troubled, but fine enough. When he was sure those eyes weren't on him, he mouthed the word 'incomplete' a few times in silent contemplation. He knew right away deep thought wasn't his domain, but he tried his best to decide what it might have meant. If he were incomplete, Sora told himself, then he wasn't really himself. He had to be someone else. With a sigh, he gave up as his head began to throb. All of this was wearing him out too easily, and he knew he was recovering.  
  
Don't worry Everything's okay, Sora  
  
I promise...  
  
Sora clutched the sides of his head, trying not to move so suddenly that Riku might notice him, but that was an attempt doomed to failure as he screamed in his mind. Those voices were in his psyche, and he recognized them somehow. One he had known for a very long time, and the other sounded fresher, more real. The second voice sounded like himself, save for the fact that it was a girl. Sora also had trouble thinking of how he could think something to himself and not know about it.  
  
"Sora?" Riku had dropped the aloof act and was hovering over him.  
  
As much as he appreciated the concern, the last thing he wanted was to hear more voices. Sora clamped his blue eyes shut and tried to clear the thoughts away. One voice troubled him while the other tired to comfort him, and this duplicity was what bothered him the most. They weren't voices from now, they were voices he remembered, and he didn't know where these fragments of memories were from.  
  
When he opened his eyes, they met glowing amber ones. The older boy's left hand was on his forehead, the other on his own. Sora didn't recall if Riku had any idea whether to gauge someone's health, and he wished the silver haired boy wouldn't try so hard to take care of him. It wasn't as if he would break or something. After thinking about it, Sora realized he didn't know that for sure. Still, it was a very strange idea. He smiled slightly when Riku withdrew his hand, seemingly satisfied with the brunette's temperature.  
  
"You have a headache? You're a bit warm..." Riku asked this, but was already looking through the weathered cabinets. "I used to get headaches when the sunlight was too bright, so I should have something..."  
  
Sora didn't know how to say he'd wait until the headache went away, and simply waited until the older boy turned around with a bottle of some kind of pain reliever. He nodded to reply that yes, he had a headache. There wasn't any other way he could answer the question, anyhow. So long as Riku didn't have to force it down his throat, Sora figured it was fine by him.  
  
Riku uncapped the bottle and handed it to Sora. "You take two with some water. I'll get that." Before Sora could object, the older boy had turned and opened another cabinet, taking out a glass. He hurried over to the sink and filled it, then came back to Sora, who had since gotten two pills out of the bottle and set it on the table. He held out the glass to the brunette. "Here. You'll feel better in about half an hour, okay?"  
  
He wanted to know so badly why Riku worried so much. It wasn't too big of a deal, and Riku kept switching his mannerisms. Sora couldn't decide which ones he was supposed to have recognized anymore. He wanted to be able to talk so badly, but a part of him wanted to stay silent, because he knew he'd learn things he didn't want to know.  
  
But he would learn those things whether he liked it or not.  
  
Sora took the pills and downed the water, then got up to put the glass in the sink while Riku was putting the bottle away. He was getting restless as his energy returned, and Riku doing everything for him was the opposite of helpful. When he set the glass down, Riku looked at him with those startling eyes. "I could have done that for you. It's okay."  
  
The brunette shook his head and tried to answer verbally, but his words were only a small noise in his throat. He sighed in frustration and folded his arms. This was not going well. As much as Riku was worried, it was driving Sora insane. He wondered if the older boy had always babied him like this. It felt awkward being coddled so much. Somehow Sora felt it was embarrassing and strange. Riku wasn't supposed to act like this around him. It seemed far too weird to be right.  
  
He trudged back to the chair he'd sat in before and slumped into the hard frame.  
  
"If you want, we can go out to get you some new clothes when you're ready." Riku suggested.  
  
Sora nodded, and decided he was going to use the knife once more. He picked it up and held his ponytail with his other hand, then taking the knife to it at an angle. Since he was a boy, he wanted it to be short like a boy's. It seemed only natural, and he cut in one swift motion, letting the tied hair fall to the creaky wooden floor silently as he set the knife down and rubbed the back of his neck. It felt different, but he liked it. All that hair had gotten in his way.  
  
"... I guess that's one way to cut your hair." Riku sighed. "Do you want to shower or something?"  
  
The younger boy nodded, and to him his head felt oddly lighter. He couldn't help thinking the word airhead was somehow appropriate. Sora figured he was not all too pleasant to look at, and he was rapidly getting ever more self conscious around his companion. It was awkward, especially being unable to speak, but he'd get his voice back sooner or later.  
  
"And you want to take care of that yourself, I'm sure." Riku went on.  
  
It was not the intended meaning, but the words made Sora flush slightly, although he told himself there wasn't any reason to. The way he said it had just been strange was all.  
  
Riku caught on to this rather quickly. "I didn't mean it that way." He was going to say something about the boy's mind being in the vicinity of a gutter, but Riku knew Sora really couldn't help it, what with having nearly no memory of what had happened in the past few years. "Anyway, the bathroom's right over there. There's towels on the sink already, so you're set." He couldn't remember speaking so much in forever.  
  
Sora nodded and walked over to the bathroom, feeling his bare neck once more before closing the door behind him. Riku sighed and leaned on the table. He wondered if Sora remembered any of the basics. The younger boy ate like an animal, but he had been half starved, and he was certainly modest, but there was no way to tell whether Sora might kill himself trying to turn on the water. Riku groaned at the idea, getting exasperated with himself.  
  
Despite previous doubts, the water turned on soon enough without any trouble. This was a relief to Riku until the younger boy made some kind of squeak, at which point the knobs in the bathroom screeched as they were turned. Obviously he'd had the water too hot. 


	5. Four

If I owned Kingdom Hearts, that would rock. For now I'll have to settle for a bag of skittles and a bottle of sprite. So, I'm updating on behalf of my friend. I don't really know if anyone likes this, but oh well. Read and review, say whatever you like. And no I have no idea if anyone gets paired off in my ifc. I guess if people who read it have input I'll go with that.

_My body has surely perished. However, I am different from the other Heartless, keeping the memories of before, and I have not taken on the form of a Heartless._

Sora came out no less worse for the wear, and Riku wondered briefly if he should be proud or astounded. He stood, and his blood froze. The latter quickly overtook his thoughts.

Towel wrapped about his waist, Sora stood there dripping wet. It was not merely that he had failed to dry himself off. If it were only that, Riku wouldn't have been nearly so stunned. The towel hung on Sora's angular frame, barely keeping to him it seemed. He'd grown so slim he had a catlike build, but yet again it was a lesser detail tot Riku.

Sora's arms and waist were covered with scars. Where once Heartless had torn and ripped at his body the boy now bore the marks of his wounds. Darkness had burned those scars into the younger boy's skin. Concentrated mainly about his chest, and Riku would later note the shoulder blades as well, the scars varied in both length and appearance. The younger boy merely stood there being examined, unable to offer explanation nor comment. He didn't need to, though. Riku knew already.

"…I'm sorry." Riku could barely breathe the words. It became even more clear than it ever had been the damage that he had wrought with his own actions. After all it was he who threw Sora into this cruel nightmare. He fell to his knees, for the first time in his life feeling as though he would surely cry in spite of Sora's presence. It was all his fault, and he'd no way to make up for it. Perhaps this was the first time reality had finally struck him full force.

He'd thought once he'd found Sora everything would go back to the way it used to be, the way it was supposed to be. But Riku knew now that he could never regain his lost time. Sora would never be the same person again, and while his friend had forgiven him Riku came to the realization that he could never atone for this. The only person who could ever forgive him was the one he'd hurt the most. The one he cared for the most. At least, he thought bitterly, his blindfold would hide the tears of frustration and self-loathing that burned his eyes. Riku knew he did not deserve the luxury of crying.

"I'm so sorry." Riku knew it would never be enough. He could never do enough to make up for all of his mistakes. He only wished that he'd known why it had to go so wrong. It seemed everything he'd ever done was nothing. It all paled to his one great mistake. Riku didn't dare speak another word. He had no right to in his mind, and Sora would surely know he was crying.

After several moments of silence he felt Sora holding him, trying to comfort him in the silent way he was limited to. That was likely Riku's fault as well. He repeated his incoherent apologies over and over again, muffled by Sora's shoulder. The silver-haired boy knew he didn't deserve such a friend. He knew and yet his arms shakily encircled his friend as they both sat there on the floor. As strong as he thought he had been, Riku felt he was nowhere near as strong as Sora was now. He'd never listened to Sora back then, and he hadn't forgiven him for an error he hadn't committed. And now Sora had lost so much. Riku bit his lip and tried to silence himself, but all the tears he'd kept inside of him for so long wouldn't be bound.

It felt like he cried for ages in that silence. He'd never felt so lost before.

"I'm sorry. After all I've done to you I go and cry. Some friend I am." Riku finally managed to calm himself, although he hadn't moved just yet. The sound of another person's heartbeat was of comfort to him. After all he could not hear his own.

He was ashamed with himself, and now more than ever. He didn't deserve Sora's kindness. What he'd done had put Sora through hell. Because of his own selfish desires he'd destroyed countless lives, but none would ever effect him more than Sora. The weight of that one life meant more than anything, and he felt he could never make up for it.

The response was silence. Sora only held him tighter, and Riku gave a wry laugh.

"I always said I was the strong one, but you…" He really didn't have to finish, and he couldn't. After staying up all night to make sure that the friend had sought for so long wouldn't simply vanish, Riku had been exhausted. The tears were more than enough for him to handle. It was such a foreign feeling. Riku hadn't even been aware that he could still cry. He slipped out of the waking world before he even knew it.

For his part, Sora remained perfectly still. Whether his friend was some form of Heartless or not didn't matter. As far as he was concerned Riku would always be Riku. He only wished he could remember what exactly Riku had done. He couldn't recall this horrible thing that hung over his dear friend's shoulders so heavily as to cause so much guilt.

Either way it was forgiven. He didn't care if Riku unleashed hell. This was his friend, the one thing he remembered, and Sora supposed he'd held on to his dearest memory longest. His friend was more valuable than life to him, and whether he could speak it or not, Sora wished that Riku knew that. His blue eyes clouded with thought. If only he could remember everything. Maybe then he could understand, and help Riku get over the shadows of the past.

It wouldn't hurt if he could talk again as well.

Riku awoke and sat up immediately. He'd found himself cradled against his friend, and it took him several moments to recall the events leading up to this. Sora sad there, head bowed in sleep, unaffected by the older boy's sudden movements. One thing remained the same, the amber-eyed boy thought with a sad smile. Sora still slept way too much.

"You must have some kind of malfunction." Riku shook his head, not certain who he should be directing that comment at. He watched Sora for a moment as the younger boy slept. He still looked so innocent in spite of all the pain he'd endured, and his youthful face reflected none of what had scarred his body these past three years. His eyes were the same blue, but perhaps his hair had become darker and a bit less wild. It had been longer too, but Sora had seen to that right away. Riku felt a smile tug at him once more and didn't suppress it.

"I wish I could remember what feelings are like, you know?" Riku leaned back on his palms, looking at the ceiling. He would never admit to Sora when he was awake that his heart was incapable of feeling until just recently, and even then he no longer knew what it was he felt. Amber eyes slid shut under raven lashes as he considered. With Sora back it felt as if his old self were returning. But it was impossible, wasn't it? His heart was made of darkness now.

"I wish." Riku allowed for another sigh as his fingers slid along the rough wooden floor, unable to tell if he even knew what it was that he wanted. His eyes opened, and he looked at Sora. "I wish I knew why it's like this. With you I feel… I feel… I still can't figure that part out."

He brought his face close to Sora's, leaned over to look up at his old friend's face. He could feel the younger boy's breaths against his cool skin. Still so much like a child, and yet Sora was a powerful warrior now. It was a strange feeling that arose as he watched the other boy. Things were so different now. Riku had changed so much but he felt that in the past three years Sora hadn't changed at all.

"Wishes are for people who deserve them." Riku drew back and rose to his feet. When Sora woke up he would need something to wear when they went out.


	6. Five

Another chapter. Yay! gets stabbed by Ultima weapon And nobody cares. But now readers can help determine the outcome. Like my buddy Rikku, who the bonus chapter will be dedicated to.

I don't own anything. Man I wish I did. Mostly I'd own Zidane. That would be awesome.

In your present state you probably cannot understand.  
In any case, the time when we can meet again will doubtless come.

"Here." Riku held out the garment in a manner so stiff that the blue eyed youth had to blink at him a few times while trying to figure it out. Having only just awoken, Sora was entitled to a few moments during which he was easily stupefied. If Sora had known that Riku was actually embarrassed he only would have been more astounded than before. After all Sora was covered, and in his simple mind that was really all that was necessary to maintain decency. "Put this on."

There was a faint tinge of warmth on Riku's otherwise porcelain features, and his amber eyes seemed to take sudden interest in anything at all. Sora did not quite understand that he was the cause of this, nor the fact that Riku had numerous reasons to be reserved. For three years Riku had been alone in the world and he hadn't exactly been a master of social skills from the onset.

But Sora recalled none of this, and only complied. As he made his way to the bathroom to change, he kept looking back at Riku, baffled by this new side to his friend. He surely did not recognize it. When he nearly tripped over himself the boy quickly darted into the little room and closed the door.

Riku sighed and folded his arms. It seemed there were a great many things he'd taken for granted whence he'd lost the ability to register emotion. The amber eyed boy imagined that he never would have been embarrassed like this had he been apathetic as usual. Even Sora had noticed his awkward behavior, and Sora wasn't exactly the most observant boy there was. He didn't even remember what Riku had been like before and was still thrown by it.

Looking as if he were trying on his big brother's clothes, Sora came out in a cloak rather similar to Riku's. This covered all of the other equally oversized garments that Riku had picked to complete the outfit. While Sora had indeed become more adult, he was still proportionally shorter than Riku. Strangely it hadn't been all that obvious until just that moment. The brunette seemed quite pleased that he had donned the apparel, even if he was practically swimming in it.

"Here." Riku strode over to the younger boy and began to tidy Sora's naturally messy job. He didn't realize he was doing so until he found himself with a pair of big blue eyes staring at him. His face gained that tint again and he pulled back quickly, uncertain of how he should proceed now. Wryly, the silver haired boy began to discover the advantages of being stoic.

Sora for his part only beamed at him and then concentrated on finishing making himself as tidy as Riku. For the younger boy this was impossible, but he seemed set on doing it. It was strange to think that only the night before Sora had barely been able to move.

"I'm sorry. I…" Riku fell silent as Sora walked up to him, looking about as meticulous as himself. He blinked, honey colored eyes taking it in with nothing less than stark amazement. Apparently Sora had changed these last three years. The younger boy had never been that tidy. Once more he found the beginnings of a smile on his face. "You know, you're amazing sometimes."

Sora rewarded him with a smile, and of course stood there staring when a long silence ensued.

"Okay, let's go." Riku led the way out the door, replacing his blindfold with a new strip of black cloth as they made their way down the stairs.

He could hear Sora's boots behind him on the wooden steps, almost grimacing as he stepped out into the afternoon light. It was a rare event that Riku might venture out into the sunlit streets. For some reason he'd never been able to stand the light for too long and even after all this time enough of it could make him ill. Riku naturally avoided the weakness.

The streets were littered with puddles, reflecting the sunlight in golden pools. Riku stood there a moment and looked to the sky. There was no evidence of the clouds from the previous night, but there would be more in the evening. He sighed and set off in the direction of a shop. The silver-haired boy was acutely aware of the other boy behind him, although the strange silence was beginning to torment him.

"…So…" What was Riku to say to him? He wasn't sure how to make conversation with Sora in his current condition. Riku had so many questions he wanted to ask yet he knew his friend couldn't answer. Maybe he wouldn't even want to.

There came a tug on his sleeve and Riku nearly jumped. Sora stood beside him, latched to his arm. The town square was harmless in daylight but Sora only knew what he remembered. The night they met there had been heartless everywhere. Unaware of his own power, it was understandable that Sora would react like this. It hadn't even been a full day since they'd been reunited.

"It's alright. During the day this town is peaceful, and I wouldn't let anything happen to you." Riku informed his friend, only to have his notions of Sora's thoughts completely thrown out.

Near Sora stood a familiar man in black. His eyes were a sapphire blue, but even the strangeness of them did not predominate his defining feature. The scar on Leon's face was unmistakable. Not knowing the situation, the swordsman had approached Sora and began talking to him like old times. It seemed that so far the keyblade master only recognized Riku. The blindfolded boy sighed. He would have to explain why Sora was hiding behind him.

"Is something wrong, Sora?" Leon had caught on to the fact that Sora was afraid of him.

Riku sighed tiredly. This could prove to be a long day. "Sora lost his memory. I'm not even sure what he still does know. So far he hasn't spoken one word."

"Nothing at all?" Leon's eyes clouded over. While he wasn't good at expressing himself, his sympathy was clear. He watched Sora for a while longer, and those blue eyes returned his gaze apprehensively. If Yuffie saw him like this, he knew she'd break. Things hadn't been going well since Sora faded away without a trace. The others wouldn't take the news well either.

Leon decided to do things over. Perhaps given time Sora would recover. "I'm Leon. Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand. Likely if he greeted Sora the same way he had when they first met Sora wouldn't take it the same as he had back then. He tried his best to smile cheerfully and found he was out of practice. In spite of this, the brunette warily accepted his greeting and shook his hand.

Sora tried to speak, but the words fought with him and refused to come out. He let go of Riku's arm and stepped behind Leon, examining the wings on the back of his jacket. For some reason Leon was not quite right. The blue-eyed boy continued to inspect, only to face the older man with a puzzled look. He pointed at Leon's neck and awaited a response.

"My necklace? You remember it?" Leon asked, hoping it was true.

Sora gave a nod and gestured as well as if he were swinging a sword.

"That's right. I use a gunblade." This time Leon did manage a faint smile. It seemed the memories were merely dormant. The more of his past that he experienced and reviewed, the more he should remember. The swordsman was glad of it. He couldn't stand the thought of someone so strong being robbed of everything he ever knew.

Sora grinned at his accomplishment. He remembered things about this Leon person.

Riku watched the scene quietly. He was glad that Sora was able to recognize parts of his past when he saw them, but at the same time it left him troubled. Sooner or later Sora was going to remember how Riku had betrayed him, and what then? Surely once he knew he wouldn't be able to forgive the amber-eyed boy. It was only a matter of time before he would be all alone again. His friend would see him for what he really was and would hate him.

He wondered briefly how long he had before he lost his friend again.

"So is this that Riku guy you were searching for back then?" Leon hoped if he asked things related to the present it might jog the keyblade master's memory. "Back at Hollow Bastion?"

Sora looked down at the stone, apparently trying to chain the information. Riku was a confirmed fact but the other pieces were strange. As much as he tried, the memories would only rattle in their cages, failing to break free. He looked back up at Leon and nodded. It must have been the truth.

When Sora turned to look at Riku, hoping he would confirm the information, he found the older boy had simply disappeared.


	7. Six

Thanks for the question. This fic takes place between Chain of Memories and KH2. Surprisingly Chain of Memories reinforces a lot of the things I reveal later. That makes me glad. I hate bending established details or plot. I'll try to post more often. I've got the outcome of this fic planned out.

I'm grateful for everyone that reads of reviews my fic, even if there aren't a lot of you. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy my fic. Maybe there will be more readers in the future. One can only hope.

And I don't own KH. Only the ideas in my head. With that, here's my bonus chappie for my buddy Rikku! Thanks for encouraging me all this time!

_Your heart has overcome the darkness.  
But you couldn't take back your body. _  
_So only your heart was left behind  
In this dark side where stolen hearts are gathered._

He couldn't take it. He couldn't face it. Riku cursed himself as he ran. No matter how strong he ever thought he was the very idea of losing Sora again broke him like glass. If he was alone again, Riku wasn't sure it would be worth living. But all the same when Sora discovered the truth there was no way he'd be forgiven.

The only reason Sora accepted him now was because he didn't understand.

His breaths burned and he slowed to a stalking pace. Human or not Riku still maintained his physical limitations. Two massive doors loomed before him, grey and cold in contrast to the sunlit city, they stood imposing, refusing to be touched by the light. Without even thinking, the amber-eyed boy had come to the temple again. Somehow whenever he was lost he always found himself here.

Not surprisingly, the towering doors parted at the touch of his gloved hands. Their size gave no indication of their slight weight. Not a sound escaped them and he entered with the same purposeful strides he always took, a sigh escaping cold lips.

Claws came to rend the air where he stood, and Riku sprang back, blindfold falling in shreds on the floor. His inhuman eyes met those of a horned beast. It roared and pulled back quickly only to dash at him. With a grace he'd recently come to know Riku stepped aside and the creature rammed into a wall with a crack that resounded through the empty expanse of the abandoned temple. Silvery dust drifted like stars down from the darkness above, the creature shaking its head and meeting his gaze with its own amber eyes. It growled, baring teeth as white as the freshly fallen snow. Riku gave a smirk in return.

A small figure stretched and yawned, rising from one of the wooden seats. Blue eyes slowly came into focus and the youth cast a gaze about the chamber. The blond spotted Riku and the beast and gave a start, leaping to feet that wore oversized boots.

Slender arms were thrown recklessly around the monster's neck, the small blond burying a doll-like face in the beast's violet fur. A long silence fell between them, even the monster rendered silent, though occasionally trying to shift out of the frail hold. "Vincent…" The blond at last spoke in a small voice, eyes still closed. Adorned in mismatched and poorly-fitted clothes, the blond was not a new sight to Riku. The youth's tail swished from one side to the other slowly, and the monster at last settled.

Slowly the beast contorted and shirked into the form of a man, much taller than the blond who had held him still. Raven hair fell haphazardly over his porcelain face and down his back. The last traces of his horns disappeared as his garnet eyes opened, shadowed by dark lashes. His left arm was a strange golden mechanization. For the first few moments he ignored Riku entirely and only regarded the blond.

"I'm sorry. It appears that I will require new clothes again." The man did not attempt to conceal his nakedness. There really wasn't any way to do so. Whence he had transformed his clothes had been torn to shreds. Though the blond still held him fast he did not return nor reject the embrace. He merely watched the face of the blond, who smiled happily.

"I don't mind." The youth sat back, and obviously accustomed to this, took off an oversized blue jacket and handed it to the dark-haired man. This left the youth in a plain white shirt, allowing a slight feminine curve to make itself apparent. Failing to notice the change this incurred, the blond stood and reached her arms heavenward again. Relaxing, her tail drifted lazily behind her and she looked at Riku.

"We haven't seen you in a while." Her sky blue eyes shone with the wide wonder of a kitten. She took a few steps toward the front of the temple, and about-faced to meet the amber gaze again. "I'm afraid we still haven't unlocked the door. At least, not the one you were looking for. We've been a few places since last you came here, but many paths are barred."

Vincent stood, and brushed past Riku. He'd never liked the younger man, and had no reason to. With a silent grace no other man would have after losing his will to the powers that had warped his soul he stalked off and into the shadows, this followed by the click of a door. The girl looked at the place where Riku's eyes lost track of him, and smiled.

"Unlike me, Vincent was human before Ansem came along." She sighed and sat on the wooden bench, tail flicking with anxiety. Riku remembered when first he met them. Then as now the girl was the only thing that seemed to help restore Vincent's sanity. He knew them better than anyone else in this world. These two were the first to meet him in this city. She looked up at Riku. "But that's our story. How has your journey been?"

Their story had not changed much. Both were experiments—failed experiments—of Ansem's design. The girl had never been human, one of several of her make and model. When the ones made before her broke out, she was saved from the wreckage by Vincent. He later became an experiment himself. She professed that it was her fault, but Riku could see that the older man would not have acted differently if given the opportunity. When Riku met them, the girl told him how they had simply slipped into another world after Ansem's fall. It seemed they possessed abilities they could not control.

And from this temple it seemed many worlds were accessible.

"I found Sora." Riku stated the fact, though the memory still burned inside him as a brand. When he went back, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he was cast aside. Sora would leave him and return to Kairi, the one who believed in him, the one who never wronged him. That was how it would be. How he envied these two. No matter what they were inseparable and he knew it from a mere glance.

"That's great!" Then of course, the girl looked at him. The disappointment and pain in the boy's eyes was all too clear. Her tail slowed its pendulum-like motion. "What's the matter?"

Riku folded his arms. Even if 233 was someone he could trust, he still did not open himself to anyone. He wished to explain. Perhaps being inhuman herself she might understand his sentiment. He cast his gaze to a stone angel in the front of the chamber, bound by heavy chains. "If you were to suddenly run into Zidane or Kuja what would you do?"

The girl looked to the ground, for the first time it seemed she was hesitant to reply. She cupped a hand under her chin and considered. Perhaps 233 never even thought that she would find the other creatures like her. She only knew of two, and only their names. Of course Riku thought the tail had to be unmistakable. "Well, it's hard to say. I search because I want to belong, and yet…" She laughed airily and ran a hand through her hair. "I never really thought it over."

"Yes. Well, you know what happened back then. You saw me with your powers, right?" Riku sat down across the thin aisle from her, slumping into the wooden frame. Creatures like 233 had unique abilities. Even the others couldn't fully grasp them. She had told him that often she could hear Zidane's thoughts, because he couldn't control their telepathic power. 233 couldn't even use it.

The blond nodded an affirmative.

"How can he forgive me?" Riku looked directly into her eyes, the first time he'd ever done so.

233 seemed almost startled by this sudden change in the silver-haired boy. He had always been so reserved and stoic up until now. She blinked at him in confusion before the question weighed in. "It's the same as that time when we first met. I was injured so badly that Vincent thought I'd never forgive him. I'm not sure about it but… I don't think anyone is unredeemable."

It wasn't a complete answer. Riku knew he couldn't expect one. Up until three years ago, 233 had no heart of her own. Even the way she smiled and laughed had been practiced. She did not understand why she did what she did, nor could she have a handle on what she felt. The blond had made the connection but had no way of expressing it.

"I guess I shouldn't have asked." Riku sighed, and leaned back in his seat. The statue at the head of the room stared back at him emptily, as if daring him to look any different. It was true that up until now he'd only been able to look and act like a stone. It seemed that once Riku found himself alone he could no longer retain the frail hold he'd had on his humanity. When that door shut and he parted from Sora he'd completely lost that part of himself. Now looking at this statue, Riku couldn't help but think how alike he and it really were.

He had started off human, and had become empty inside. The girl he'd been talking to was really the exact opposite. She had resisted the darkness and become human. 233 didn't have a heart to start off with, but she had gained one. That fact made Riku stop to think. If she was without a heart before, what had she been? Was this girl once as he was now?

233 noticed she was being watched, but kept quiet. She didn't know how she was supposed to respond to that yet, Riku figured. The girl simply occupied herself with the familiar scenery, tail swishing back and forth like a pendulum.

"Do you remember what it's like to have no heart?" Riku spoke with no expectations of an answer. It was likely that she had no recollection, or had tried to forget about it.

Her tail stilled a moment, and 233 sighed. For once her smile failed her, and instead of practiced emotions she looked at the statue herself. She seemed to be peering into her past through it, sky blue eyes distant as she sat there in the void of silence. At last, she looked back to Riku, though she had never asked his name herself.

"It was…cold…" 233 seemed to be selecting her words carefully, trying to capture an intangible emotion and put it to words. She'd never seemed so serious, almost as if years had been added to her life as the memories returned. Her eyes never left his. "And it was as if my body wasn't even mine."

To demonstrate, she held up her hands to her chest, clad in red gloves. "There was nothing inside of me, and I was all alone. I didn't know that I was sad, but I had to have been. I wasn't even a person."

"Not a person..?" Riku watched her, letting her words soak in. They were thoughts he had shared, things he had known. He'd never thought of himself as an incomplete person, but maybe he had really made himself one three years ago. All the things people like 233 and Vincent fought so hard to regain he had simply thrown away. Perhaps to the girl's standards, he himself wasn't real.

"Yeah." 233 grinned. "It sucked."

The massive doors opened again, and Riku turned to see Sora peek into the room curiously before stepping inside. A puzzled look came over the boy's features, but when he spotted the silver-haired boy he walked in with the assurance of finding what he'd come for. Sora's gaze roamed the expanse as he walked, and he nearly tripped over his cloak when he looked at the high stained glass windows.

He stopped next to Riku and looked down at him. Riku matched the gaze, though puzzled. Sora had changed so much in such a short time. There appeared to be no end to the extent to which the younger boy had grown, although physically he remained almost the same. Once more, Sora tried to speak, and his smile faded when the words never made it.

"You'll recover soon enough." Riku sighed. He was stuck until Sora could speak and remember again, and then he'd be left alone. He couldn't abandon his friend, even if it meant he would only be hurt a second time. Once again it would be his fault but it would hurt nonetheless.

Riku stood, and nodded to 233. Having done so he turned to leave, and Sora followed.

The two left and the doors shut heavily behind them, leaving 233 to sit on the bench and think. She leaned back against the abrasive wood, arms on the back of her seat at she looked over her shoulder at the massive doors. This had been the first time in quite a while that the silver-haired boy had paid her a visit, and never once had he asked her about her past. He'd never spoken of his own, either.

Vincent came out of the shadows fully clothed, and noted that their visitor had left. His garnet eyes narrowed somewhat as he regarded the exit as well. He'd seen the silent newcomer only for a moment, but be could sense it the same as the young mage could.

"That boy, he…" 233 trailed off, not certain how to explain what she'd felt. Her tail resumed its pendulum-like motion once again as she stood up and stretched again. Vincent could easily pick up on what the girl was thinking, and closed the distance between them, standing at her side. He returned her coat and the mage put it back on. All black mages wore such attire and it had become customary for her as well.

"…Yes. I sensed it was well." Vincent said with his same apathetic voice. It troubled his companion, but he could not feel the same concern. While he did not like the strange boy Vincent still would never have wished such a fate upon him.

233 sighed, and faced the statue. "I just hope he won't go through that pain again."


End file.
